


Resistance is Futile

by ambersagen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cats, Developing Relationship, Dogs, Lobsters, M/M, PTSD, They don't know what the fuck they are doing, pet!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 03:00:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambersagen/pseuds/ambersagen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a hunting trip that takes them to a pet store, Sam and Cas decide that what their group needs is an animal friend. Dean is dead against it. And so begins operation 'Make Dean Buy Us A Pet'. Little do they know that there is more than a practical reason as to why Dean doesn't want a furry companion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resistance is Futile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deans1911 (partialdifferential)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=deans1911+%28partialdifferential%29).



> So disclaimer: I have yet to watch season 8 but I am enamored with the idea of our boys having a home to call their own. Also, Cas is semi fallen in this, so still a BAMF angel, but reduced. Written for my dear friend's b-day, who requested the boys adopting a pet. This probably needs more editing...sigh.

“Sam!” Dean said, voice half whisper, half shout in his excitement. ‘Dude! Look—oh gross, he got’em,” he made a face, grimacing as the lizard he was pointing at crunched down on a poor, unsuspecting cricket who had wandered too close.

Sam rolled his eyes, elbow jabbing Dean’s side as he called his brother’s attention back to the investigation at hand.

‘So,” Sam said, turning back to loom apologetically, yet intimidatingly, over the pet shop attendant. “You’re saying that the recent plague of rats at,” Sam checked his notes, “Uhh, Chi Chi’s Buffet did not come from your store?”

The attendant shook his head vigorously, greasy adolescent skater-hair flopping against his face. “No sir,” he said, nerves causing his voice to hit an octave that made Dean wince in sympathy. ‘We only carry, like, two rats at the most,” the kid shrugged. “You know how it is, they aren’t the most popular,” he shuffled over to another cage, popping the lid open and reaching in to pull out a giant pom pom. ‘If moms are going to go for a rodent they usually get one of these cuties,” as the kid held up the fluff ball Sam made an excited cooing noise, causing Dean to sneer at him.

“Ohhhhhh!” Sam said, reaching out to pet the Guinea pig. As he fussed over the thing Dean took his turn to roll his eyes. Figures Sam would like the fuzzy animals. Dean wandered over to the snakes, peering down at a large yellow python in interest.

“Dean.”

Dean sighed, Cas’ voice rumbling through his head as he looked to see what the guy needed. He turned and was met with the sight of Cas, arms wrapped tight around a wiggly golden puppy.

“No,” Dean said, keeping his tone firm as he looked into liquid blue puppy-dog eyes, the ones not attached to the actual canine. “You were supposed to be checking the back room,” he scolded, shooing Cas, puppy and all, back to the far end of the store. ‘Put the dog back and let’s get going.”

_“Dean.”_

_“No._ ”

“Dude, put it away and let’s just get out of here before we end up buying our own plague of rats. Man, you two are like kids in a candy store around fluffy things.”

Cas frowned, reluctantly placing the puppy back in its pen and stroking the thing’s ears as Dean watched him warily. It wasn’t so much that Dean hated dogs, although after being mauled to death by hell hounds he tried never to think about them or look at them if he could help it. It was more the issue of Cas. These days the angel was less smighty then he used to be, but Dean had no idea how pissy the guy might get about being force to give up on his dog.

Finally, Cas just stood up with a ‘humph’, straightening his coat and sending a glare Dean’s way. “You were the one who was consulting Sam on the possibility of keeping a boa-constrictor in the trunk.”

Dean grinned. “That’s because snakes are badass,” he snarked, choosing not to point out that there was no way in hell he had been serious. Sometimes messing with Cas’ mind was too much fun. The angel frowned suspiciously, and Dean made an attempt to school his features into something completely serious, but he could tell he was failing. “Cas, you’re not going to get all biblical on me are you? Come on, you can’t tell me Satan was ever really a snake!”

“I don’t like the way they look at me,” Cas said stiffly, disapproval in his stance. “It is impossible to tell what they are thinking with eyes like that. They are very suspicious Dean.”

Dean snorted, pushing Cas along in front of him as they headed toward the front of the shop. “Detective Hebert!” he shouted, raising his eyebrows when Sam jumped guiltily back from what appeared to be the world’s furriest hamster. “Time to get back to the station,” Dean said, tilting his head towards the door meaningfully.

Jeez. He should have known better than to let these two anywhere near animals. After practically having to rip the puppy away from Cas and stop Sam from smuggling critters out in his suit pockets Dean could almost feel the growl trying to work its way out of his throat whenever his brother or angel tried to talk to him.

It was only logical that he wanted to go somewhere to work off the frustration, somewhere that didn’t smell like woodchips. So, despite twin bitchfaces meeting his suggestion that they all hit the local bar for the evening instead of the library for extra research, Dean had won them over, no real contest, and the group was now pulling up in front of a place generically dubbed ‘The Grill’.

He should have known life was never that easy.

Dean had seen the look his brother and angel had exchanged when they had all gotten out of the impala, of course he had. He was a true born and bred hunter after all, but his instincts had failed him on this one. He had assumed that a secretive exchange of glances and a refusal to join him at the bar meant that they were shunning him for spoiling their nerd night out. He never sensed anything more sinister or alarming as they slid into a booth together. Dean had more important things on his mind.

\---

“You know,” Sam said the next morning, when Dean finally managed to pull his hung-over ass out of bed to stagger into the bathroom, “Scientific studies show that pets reduce stress in their owners by over 80% compared to people without animals in their lives,” Dean scowled at him around his toothbrush. There was no fucking way he was ever going to taste anything again judging by the apparent immovability of left-over vodka taste from his binge.

Sam, coming to lean on the door frame of the bathroom, shook his head as Dean spit and started another round of brushing. “Cas and I were talking about it last night, and we really think you need to relax. You’re too uptight.”

Spitting again, Dean glared at him. Sam smiled sweetly back, all dimples and innocence. Dean wasn’t fooled. “You want to help with my stress level then get the fuck out of the bathroom so I can shower,” Dean ordered, pushing his gigantor brother out of the room. “I don’t care what you’re up to right now just leave me in peace or I will be tempted to get rid of the biggest stress factor in my life right now in a way that definitely involves a body bag,” Dean shut the door in Sam’s face as the younger Winchester was about to reply. God, he really needed to be drunk again. Sobriety sucked balls.

“You’ll give in eventually you know, one way or another,” Sam sing-songed from outside of the bathroom. Dean closed his eyes. Why the fuck Sam was even thinking about a pet was beyond his ability to ponder out right now.

\---

“You are too careless with yourself Dean,” Cas scolded as he helped Dean splint his shoulder. Dean was pretty sure he had cracked his clavicle by the feel of things, and he had defiantly pulled a muscle or two pulling himself out of that grave last night. Damn ghosts and their ability to tag team.

He winced as Cas taped the bandages in place, the pressure stinging. Cas sighed, “You know, it is a proven fact that humans who own pets live up to a decade longer than those humans who do not welcome animals into their lives,” he said, giving the bandage one final smoothing over. Dean stared at him.

“You’re joking,” he finally forced out. Blood loss, it had to be the blood loss that was making him hear things. “Cas, please tell me you two aren’t really serious about the whole getting a pet thing,” Cas’ frown pretty much answered his question and Dean groaned aloud. “Damn it, Cas,” he moaned, dropping his head into his hands. “We’re not getting a fucking pet! It would be dead in a week and Sam would probably insist on a proper funeral. I am not going to through a repeat of 5th grade and Flippy the Goldfish!”

Cas gave the bandage a firm pat, causing Dean to yelp and glare at him accusingly. “We will make you see reason Dean Winchester,” Cas said, all confidence and calm. “You will see in the end that we are right about this. Pets are very beneficial.”

Dean gave him a long suffering look as Cas packed up the med kit. This was going to suck, Dean could feel it in his bones.

\---

“If we had a dog we could train it to sniff out cadavers,” Sam panted as he chucked another shovel of basement dirt over his shoulder. They had no idea where the damn body was buried in this place, only that if they didn’t get it burned in the next half hour they were screwed.

Dean just glared, the grit on his face grinding into the frown lines on his forehead, and pointed his shovel to the next untouched patch of ground in the room. “Less talking, more digging.”

\---

“If we had a canine of our own we could have integrated ourselves in with these children sooner,” Cas said, delivering his obviously rehearsed lines somewhat flatly.

Dean rolled his eyes and refrained from sighing heavily while and determinedly kept his mind off the last dogs he had encountered. Meeting hell hounds had defiantly not done him any favors. Although, Cas had a point, he thought, as he watched the kids going gaga over a local stray. People did tend to open up if you had a pet with you.

He shook his head, clearing it of stupid, traitor thoughts. “Yeah, Cas. I can totally picture you, strolling about the park in your flasher jacket, asking children to help you find your lost dog.”

Dean marched off, when Cas frowned, unsure of exactly how he was being mocked, but pretty sure his attempt to win over Dean to the pet side had failed.

\---

“I don’t get it Dean,” Sam said, frustration finally leading him to confront his brother directly. “You used to want a dog, or at least I distinctly remember you begging along with me that time in Idaho when we found that golden retriever.”

“Yeah, maybe I did used to want a dog,” Dean said, trying not to think about claws and teeth and bad canine breath. “But I also used to want to be a firefighter and you wanted to be a marine biologist. Things change man, and Dad was right, we would kill an animal in no time with our pet owner abilities.”

“Oh please,” Sam said, scrunching up his brow in frustration. “We’re grown men, perfectly capable of taking care of one little animal.”

Dean shrugged, his shoulders riding the motion with a violent dismissal. He could practically hear the hell hounds baying in the distance.

“Sure Sammy,” he said, tossing back his beer. He kept it up near his mouth as a barrier between him and his brother. “Because three grown-ass men such as us have been so great at keeping things we love alive in the past.”

“So we should stop trying? Just give up, stop saving the world?” Sam almost shouted, anger getting the best of him as he ran his hands distractedly through his overgrown hair. “Because that’s what it sounds like you’re suggesting. I think you’ve given up Dean, you don’t want to care anymore.”

Dean was tempted to march out of the room right then and there but Cas chose that moment to block the entryway with his arrival. Sam took a couple of breaths as Dean busied himself with a newspaper in front of him. After an awkward second or two in which Cas stared at them carefully and as they got their collective calm back Sam was finally ready for a last ditched effort.

“Come on, Dean,” Sam wheedled as Cas found himself a seat at the table. “I know Dad never let us have a pet, and this is our chance to do something for ourselves!”

“Sammy,” Dean said, a warning in his voice as he lowered the newspaper he had been scanning. “We are not going to turn this stupid thing into a fight about Dad.”

Sam leaned forward, obviously ready to do exactly that when Cas butted in.

“I never had a childhood.”

They both stared at Cas in surprise.

“I never had a childhood to be denied the pleasures of an animal companion,” Cas clarified. “In fact, I have never had the chance to participate in the majority of what I understand average humans consider the pleasures of life.”

Dean twitched. Cas had a point, booze and brothels had been pretty much the only mortal joy the guy had participated in besides cheeseburgers. And whose fault was that? Fate was a predictable bitch when anyone and their uncle could pretty much point to the older Winchester and say ‘there lies the downfall of every fucking pretty boy angel’. Cas looked at him over the desk, his eyes wide and blue and definitely calculated to make him feel like a baby killer.

Damn it. “Did Sam train you up or something?” Dean asked, not bothering to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“Dean—” Sam started, but his brother cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Fine,” Dean said tightly, his jaw clenching as he looked at Cas’ hopeful expression. “Do whatever you want. Get a unicorn for all I care. Just leave me the hell out of it.”

Dean turned and walked out of the room, putting his back to them so he wouldn’t have to see the look of triumph he was sure they were exchanging right now. Fuck this, if they wanted to put time and energy into something that just couldn’t work then they could deal with it on their own.

\---

Over the next few days or so the atmosphere in the bunker was tense. Sam and Cas seem to have noticed they may have crossed a line with their persuasion and, while they made extra effort to include Dean in their planning for the new pet, Dean was in no mood to care. Dean had decided that if he was going to be accused of being the bad guy here then he was staying out of this. This meant drinking and hanging out in his bedroom a lot of the time since they were on a dry spell for cases and he was not going to sit around listening to the two of them discussing whether they should go for a hypoallergenic hairless cat or a show poodle. Or whatever it was they talked about these days.

He didn’t really notice at first when the two of them started cooking in an effort to make up to him. He just sort of went with it when small things like deviled eggs and chicken wings started appearing in the fridge next to the beer. Having been too depressed to cook much himself the last week he just kind of grabbed whatever without much thought. Then Sam made breakfast and he was too hung over to question it. When they ran out of strong alcohol and Cas made mashed potatoes and steak Dean was too hungry to complain when they all sat down to eat dinner together, and it wasn’t like you could comfortably eat a steak and potatoes meal in bed anyway. So he stayed, and eventually found himself drawn into a conversation on whether they should get a bird or not. They were tied 50/50, with Sam in favor because birds are musical, and Dean against because he didn’t want some goddamned rooster waking them up at the crack of dawn. When Cas said he would prefer their pet to not have wings Dean felt the guilt start to creep back in and Sam changed the topic to what other species of animals might be an option outside of the regular cat or dog variety.

“A crustacean would make a very sturdy pet,” Cas observed hopefully. “Something large enough to cuddle. A lobster maybe? They have their skeleton on the outside you know. Very sensible.”

Both Winchesters just stared at him.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dean said, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Yeah Cas, get a lobster, I’m sure we’ll all enjoy your new pet, WHEN IT’S SMOTHERED IN BUTTER AND GARLIC!”

Ignoring Cas’ disgruntled pout Dean stomped out of the room to get something stronger than beer. He was so not participating in any more of this crap while sober.

He forgot they were out of everything else due to his sulking. Cursing under his breath Dean stomped back to the table to find Cas and Sam discussing which purebred dog would be the best personality fit.

“What do you think Dean,” Sam asked scooting his chair over as Dean reentered the room. “Doberman Pincer or Border Collie? I think they had a Doberman at the place we were at last week for that plague rat job.”

“No. No pet stores." Dean interceded, getting surprised looks from the two. “If we’re going to do this then we are going to get a pound dog, some mutt whose life is on the line anyway. If we’re going to risk the poor animal getting ganked just for hanging out with us then the least we can do is give the thing a longer chance at life than it would have gotten.”

Sam gave an impressed huff, and Dean felt himself shy away from the proud look Cas was giving him. He didn’t even have any idea why the hell he would suggest a dog to them in the first place.

“That’s very kind of you Dean,” Cas said. “We should have considered that before.”

Sam was nodding vigorously in agreement. “Yeah, that’s a great idea, I’ll make some calls and see what shelters are too full and all that.”

Dean felt his neck growing hot with a blush as Sam clapped him on the shoulder. He swallowed, throat tight as Sam and Cas began excitedly discussing whether they should get an older dog that would be harder for the shelter to adopt out or a younger dog that might need extra training. Dean walked to the kitchen, rubbing his shoulder absently. It felt like an abysmally long time since anyone had actually approved of anything he said.

He knew he had a habit of pushing Sam’s buttons when stressed, joking to cover all the shit he felt going on in his head at times. But even when he was actually for real joking, on the rare occasion he was relaxed enough to find something funny, Sam always had the same reaction, meeting his humor with annoyance. Damn it, Dean was tired of always having to be the responsible one, always having to take hard line.

He glanced back over his shoulder, catching Cas’ eye briefly before jerking his gaze back to the kitchen. He felt Cas’ attention boring into the back of his head. He could feel the confusion focusing on him.

“Damn it.”

He grabbed a beer, smacking the fridge shut a little more forcefully than required. He stalked out, not giving his brother and the angel even a glance as he headed to his room.

He slammed the beer down on his night stand before throwing himself down on his bed and breathing in deeply, nose pressed to his pillow as he took in the spice and oil smell of his own scent. He still couldn’t believe at times that he now had a space of his own; somewhere to call home long enough that is smells like him and even looks like his. It calmed him down a little, enough that, when there came an uncertain knock on his door, he didn’t just growl and tell whoever it was to fuck off. Instead he simply rolled on to his back as Cas slowly opened the door, taking Dean’s lack of protest as permission to enter and closing the door quietly behind him.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Are…you feeling ok?” Cas asked, hesitating to question Dean’s mental state to his face. He knew Dean’s opinion on talking about feelings. Dean sighed, gesturing Cas over to the bed.

“I’m fine. It’s just—Jesus, Cas. I don’t want you to get hurt anymore,” Dean thumped his head back into the bed, frustrated. “You think this is going to be fun, is going to make us happy. I was there when Dad made Sam take those kittens he found to the pound. I was there when Bobby’s old dog died. Animals just get you all attached and then break your heart. They don’t live as long as humans, and sometimes they die for no reason and there’s just nothing you can do about it,” He closed his eyes, trying not to remember those times he had been the one to tell Sam no, to make him take cats and dogs back outside before their father had seen them. He tried not to think of rabbits and birds chopped up in some witch’s workroom. Animals always got the short straw in their line of work.

The room was quiet, the faint hum of the generator a background noise to neither of them saying anything. Dean felt a tentative touch on his bicep, a hand brushing down his arm in a very slow soothing motion. Surprised, he opened his eyes. Cas stood next to him, slightly hunched over to touch Dean. His face made it clear that he wasn’t sure if what he was doing was allowed. Dean felt a smile tugging at his mouth as he took in the slight scrunch to Cas’ nose as the angel looked down at him.

“I know you wish to protect me,” Cas said carefully, still slowly stroking his hand along Dean’s arm. “But, perhaps you could let me try on my own? I would like to experience this for myself, and maybe it is possible to have a different outcome than the one you expect.”

Dean huffed, but didn’t make any move to stop Cas as the angel reached up, brushing his fingers along the hunter’s forehead as he pushed his hair back off his face. “You really do have a lot of faith Cas.”

\---

The pound smelled thick. That was really the only way Dean could describe the mix of animal smell, kibble, and metal. It was also surprisingly noisy, the concrete floor and walls causing any noise made to echo throughout the building. Sammy was somewhere ahead of him gushing at the pound lady while Cas flitted around, looking at all the dogs. Holy shit there were a lot of dogs.

Dean felt a twitch in his left eye settling in at each bark and growl that came from the pens. He hated this. Being here was making forgetting hell hounds almost impossible. He felt his breathing start to go all funny as they moved deeper into the building. He heard Sam saying something to Cas about the older dogs being in the back kennels but he couldn’t really focus much. His thinking felt a little fuzzy despite his multiple attempts to shake himself out of it. He wasn’t scared, not of a few mutts in perfectly solid cages.

Then the howling started.

He couldn’t breathe, the sound of dog voices picking up and echoing through the building in a pack howl. His frozen brain didn’t register the almost ridiculous mix of breeds in the effort. Little dog and big dog howls all combined in his mind to form the hunting call of a hungry, vicious pack of hell hounds. He dimly registered that Sam was asking him something, but he couldn’t be move, couldn’t turn to give some bullshit answer to his question. Fuck, he couldn’t even pretend to smile.

Dean struggled, fighting down panic as he gasped, air not entering his lungs; lungs that would soon be ripped from his chest, clawed and slashed until they no longer resembled anything but an oozing pile of bloodied flesh. He could feel his limbs going cold as blood drained from him. He could feel himself dying and knew that if he could only look down he would see exposed ribs, see the blood he could no longer feel pulsing through him draining and dripping on the ground.

Sam was shaking his shoulder now, possibly shouting something, and Dean desperately wanted to answer him, because he couldn’t let people see him like this, he couldn’t let them see this pathetic terror, his stupid body all mangled and cold because he had failed to find a solution that would save his sorry ass.

He thought he might possibly be moving, he could see cages going by. But if Sam was pulling him along by the arm he couldn’t feel it. He was just too cold, and the roaring in his ears and the dark moving in at the edge of his vision made him worry he was about to faint. He couldn’t faint now, he would never wake up again if he did, he was sure of it.

He felt a hand, warm and living, pressing against his spine, rubbing comforting circles along his back as –Cas?—it felt like Cas, made soothing comments that Dean couldn’t focus on but understood the intent of. He found himself take a shuddering breath, the first he had managed for a few minutes—hours?

He felt the soothing pressure reminding his cold, cold body that it was still alive, still able to feel, still here. It felt so damn good. He took another shuddering breath, vaguely aware that it sounded like a sob more than a basic physical function. In fact, he was more aware of most things right now than he had been. They had apparently managed to get him out into the parking lot, the cool air doing wonders for his overheated face. How the hell could a person feel so cold an hot at the same time anyway? His brain searched out Sam automatically, only a bit surprised to find him standing so close. Sam looked as if he wanted to brace Dean up against the impala, but knew that he would get his hands ripped off if he did. Hell, he shouldn’t be allowing whatever this was to be happening.

“Get off me,” Dean said, his voice just below a shout. “Go get your damned mutt so we can get out of here,” he jerked away from Cas’ touch to lean unsteadily against the impala. He still felt too shaky to stand properly, but hell if he was going to let them see that. He didn’t want pity, didn’t want this stupid phobia to stop them from getting their stupid pet. He ground his teeth in frustration. He didn’t want them to think he was throwing a fit just to get his way. “I’m serious guys, hurry up so we can get the hell out of this place.”

Cas looked hurt, and Dean couldn’t see Sam now that he was holding himself up on his baby but he could imagine the face his brother would be wearing. He forced himself to look at them both. The effort made him a little dizzy, but he met both their looks with as much firmness as he could. “Really guys, let’s just get this over with.”

Sam made a pained face but nodded when he saw that Dean was serious. He grabbed Cas’ arm. “Just lay down and wait for us in the car,” Sam ordered, not bothering to mask the worry in his voice. “We are going to talk about what just happened Dean.”

Dean just growled, throwing open the door and almost falling into the back seat in his hurry to just lie down. He could feel the panic creeping back in and he just really, really wanted to not think about anything right now. He crawled in, pulling the door closed behind him with his foot as he listened to the sound of footsteps moving away from the car.

He leaned back, closing his eyes as he focused on the air moving through his lungs. Around him he felt his baby settling, creaking metal making small popping sounds as the engine cooled, the chill of the leather seat against the back of his neck causing him to shrug further into its crease. He had really fucked this trip up. He tried not to focus on the look Sam and Cas had given him when they left, just focus on breathing properly. In and out. Panic attacks weren’t exactly new to him, he had always had a few growing up and after hell the frequency had increased, but something on this magnitude was completely new to him outside of the breif seconds after waking up from a nightmare. This was more than just humiliating, and Dean wasn’t sure how he was going to handle being around an actual dog now. In and out. Just focus.

A knock against the driver’s side window signaled Sam’s return. Before Dean could react though Cas was sliding into the back seat with him, casually lifting Dean’s head only to shift in under him, draping the man over his lap without comment as he reached around to dump something tiny on Dean’s chest.

_“Meep?”_

Dean peered across his chest at the smallest kitten he had ever seen.

“A black cat, Cas?” he said when he had finally composed himself after the rather surprising manhandling he had just received.

Above him he saw Cas’ head nod, and felt firm fingers carding through the hair on the back of his head as Cas reached out simultaneously to pet the kitten. It blinked up in surprise at the touch, arching a wobbly body into the angel’s hands before tipping over. Without thinking Dean reached up to catch the kitten, pulling it back up onto his chest automatically.

As Sam got into the driver’s seat Cas placed his cat-petting hand protectively against Dean’s ribs, presumably to prevent the kitten from falling back that way when they got the car moving. “I thought a cat would be the preferable companion to our group,” Cas said, and Dean felt the vibrations from his voice go right through his upper body. Not that he was complaining about the contact. Dean still felt slightly shaky from his panic attack. “It would be preferable to have an animal that is somewhat independent for when we are off on longer hunts.”

Dean felt himself relaxing, the stress from the shelter falling away with each pass of Cas’ fingers through his hair. He rubbed the kitten under its chin curiously. To his satisfaction the little thing began to purr immediately. “So, no dog?” he asked, feeling stupid but still wanting to hear it.

He wasn’t quite looking up at Cas’ face, but he still felt the smile the angel gave him. He could feel the reassurance Cas tried to project in the sudden brush of fingers along his jawline.

“No dog,” Cas agreed. The kitten purred in pleasure at the sudden, happy ruffle Dean gave to its fluffy back.

“Ok, cool,” Dean almost whispered, wiggling further back into Cas’ lap as he gave their new pet the once over. “So what do we name it?”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello. I am a lonely person.  
> ambersagen.tumblr.com


End file.
